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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months

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the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects ; suguru geto

synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened either nobody look at me 💔)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu :3, he goes feral in one part (descriptions of violence and bloodshed), reader gets briefly kidnapped lol, very fluffy overall though!!, includes shifting povs & time-skips, also lots and lots of devotion, knight!sugu is real & beautiful & loves you specifically <33

a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.

images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight.

(or… a wolf?)

before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence.

he looks a little lonely.

and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —

and that’s when you wake up.

”your highness!”

a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears.

above you waits a familiar face; impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you. and she isn’t pleased.

but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath. ”a wolf…”

silence.

the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows.

”… excuse me?”

”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.”

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”

ah. of course.

a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”

”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”

”early as hell,” you rasp, willfully tuning out her murmur of mind your language. letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”

following your silent cue, she hums, walking towards the edge of the room. picking up your discarded blouse, and bringing it to you. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, lifting the fabric as if getting ready to dress you.

”i can do that myself,” you hiss, snatching the white silk from her outstretched hands. as always, she does nothing but sigh, sigh, sigh. it’s all they ever do. ”i’m not a toddler.”

from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you can see the view beyond your translucent window’s glass. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance, silently ruminating. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through the gap, you can smell the rain; heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour.

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close.

a bitter taste blooms on your tongue.

(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)

”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”

and she brightens, visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze. for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”

a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. humorous. ”i bet they are.”

”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now; you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”

”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”

again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air. ”do you have any idea who that man was?”

the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was?

”… he was hot.”

sigh. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct.

”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”

”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.

”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”

”behave.”

with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah — there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience. you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit. all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs.

over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.

”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”

and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath her sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”

for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing? the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.

so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”

before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.

(hmph.)

”where is your maid?”

in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you.

and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to.

”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”

the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.”

”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”

an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite.

”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”

he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows.

yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.

but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”

you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane.

then you groan.

”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”

”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”

you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

your father pretends not to hear you.

”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”

your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember.

that is what royalty means — absolute dominion.

(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)

”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”

a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”

”your majesty.”

…

the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”

”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”

behave.

behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.

(you might as well be a pet.)

the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago.

automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.

you’re just about to part your lips, when —

”… am i interrupting?”

you still.

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds.

the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”

when you turn around, you see a knight.

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind.

and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.

(ah. he’s one of those knights.)

”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”

(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)

”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”

the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. but, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”

finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.

but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.

you feel a little nauseous.

”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.”

he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew. ”forgive me; my name is suguru geto. your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”

(suguru geto. you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)

his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours; to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything. nothing, other than studying his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar.

it’s a smile you know well.

so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”

silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.

interest?

”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”

that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.

”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”

he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny.

”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”

ah. the sympathy card.

before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”

… ugh.

to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”

a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.

they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.

but before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.

it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”

(indefinitely.)

a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”

suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”

but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.

to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.

”my lord.”

”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”

”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”

you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”

but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.

”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.

”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”

”oh?”

”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”

he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”

”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”

suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him.

(”you’re a bad actor.”)

the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.

but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake.

”from now on, i serve you.”

when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.

suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.

”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.”

there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”

the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.

”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”

you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.

(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)

an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”

and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.

you watch him, silently.

then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.

behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.

”good morning, your highness.”

blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.

black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile.

the gears of your mind finally click into place.

a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.

but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”

a muffled groan. ”leave.”

”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”

”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”

a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.

”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”

…

slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order.

it’s tempting. dangerously so.

(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)

”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. (but you are.) ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”

a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”

(suddenly, you get an idea.)

a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased with yourself.

silence.

then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”

when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. that’ll definitely make him quit.

— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.

before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing. with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented.

for just a moment, you’re entirely speechless. he really went ahead and got you some of everything.

stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”

he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”

you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.

but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.

when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh.

it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”

”... better than usual, i guess.”

despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”

…

you pale.

silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?”

”yes.”

another pause.

”… like. all of it?”

”mhm.”

your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.

wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.

”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”

”ugh.”

a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”

”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”

”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”

”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”

and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.

but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”

you give him a look.

he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.

you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips.

then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”

”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. reassuring you. ”no kissing involved.”

a handshake.

(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)

after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him. ”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”

suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”

kento? now, why does that sound familiar…?

”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”

”that’s not happening.”

”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.

but then you remember the tale.

so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair, noticing your expression, maybe, the curiosity simmering in your veins. seeping out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t — you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…

”… is it true?”

he tilts his head.

”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp.

”… pull it out of a stone?”

a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”

and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”

”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets said about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as good, anyhow.”

(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)

in a matter of seconds, you seem to deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”

”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”

…

”wait, really?”

the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.

”depends,” he quips, shooting you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”

(... oh. he was teasing you.)

an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”

suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.

”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”

he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.”

”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”

suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat.

”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”

when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.

a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”

”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.”

a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips.

”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”

suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.

once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.

anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.

— a week passes with no particular developments. you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods.

he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being. the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken.

(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)

a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.

as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctively, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour.

he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.

and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods.

as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf.

finally, your knight opts to break the silence.

”you’re quite talented.”

it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.

stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf.

from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.

”what?”

suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”

a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….

(something in his tone convinces you not to.)

”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”

silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? a sense of regret mixes with the paint.

the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?

”… huh.”

a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.

then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.”

you quirk a brow.

but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all. a sorry spectacle of teeth.

— a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow, still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep, a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.

the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.

fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.

what a mess.

when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth.

it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other.

he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. so he doesn’t hurt himself. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”

he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.

you sigh.

after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor.

there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.

a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.”

he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”

”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”

a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief.

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile.

(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless.

what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)

just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.

”your highness! what have you done now?”

there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.

”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”

she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”

”… i mean. i do kind of own this place, don’t i?” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”or i will. so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”

”… my lord —”

”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.

the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.

the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.

a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.

”your highness.”

he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness.

(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)

he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks.

”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”

…

”… huh?”

he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ”you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”

a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.”

but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part, you’re sure. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”

another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly.

just what the hell is happening?

”i’m… i’m not — ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”

”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes.

you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life.

”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”

nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”

he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”

”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”

no one does.

and that’s fine. you don’t want them to.

(you just want him to stop looking you so fondly.)

”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.”

he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult — scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”

a scoff. desperate. ”no.”

”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”

”not me.”

”your highness.”

…

the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.

he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks.

”that was very, very kind of you.”

silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.

(someone saw through the act.)

”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.”

suguru bites back a coo.

as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet.

it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted.

you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through. and then he’s catching up to you with long strides.

(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)

sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame — you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it.

maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.

or, well — sometimes.

”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes.

the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes.

suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”

a beat.

”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”

”still no, sweetheart.”

a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”

you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.

”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”

he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”

your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.

”… thanks for breakfast.”

suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence.

”you’re welcome, my lord.”

…

(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)

peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.

today, he sounds a little hesitant.

”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”

you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant.

”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums.

”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”

you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.

”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”

you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.

”… so?”

you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.

”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.

a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting.

your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper. ”… i wanna swing a sword.”

suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?

you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.”

a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.

then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”

you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear.

when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.

(tantalizing.)

he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.

and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself.

giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.

suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes.

you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.

but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.

ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.

”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”

to your horror — it flusters you terribly.

you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two.

”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”

”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”

for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring.

a mellow excitement simmers in your bones.

you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.

”suguru!”

the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be.

when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips.

he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.

”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”

your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests.

”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”

”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”

he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him.

his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”should we get started?”

haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”

a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”

”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”

in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half.

you’re a little awestruck.

and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”

barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.

that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”

— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.

silence.

haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.

”… i was gonna say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”

”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, knows you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”

he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”

a tiny pause.

(you’re being childish, again.)

brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.

suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”

”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”

”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”

he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.

a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”

from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.

but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement.

as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun. he looks like he’s having fun.

he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun.

for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash.

and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth. you huff. heat crawling up your neck.

show off.

”excuse me, your highness?”

the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.

(uh oh.)

— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties.

it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.

slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.

so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”

haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”

but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore.

he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.

(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”

the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.

and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”

before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”

(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)

with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.

as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”

you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”

”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”

still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time.

”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”

”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?”

”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”

a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip.

”… i haven’t.”

he turns to look at you. raising a brow.

”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”

your knight falls silent.

so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.”

closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”

…

he only hums. ”i see.”

(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave.

you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.)

— that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.

when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.

”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.

it’s mesmerizing.

”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”

when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”

it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth. and you’ve had more than a couple suitors, men and women, eager to gain your favour.

but this — this particular gift…

…

”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”

suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”

and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.

that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish — a wish to see more of it.

”are you trying to sneak out again?”

owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.

a gulp. ”… no?”

and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken.

”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”

”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”

resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore.

like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.

(why can’t you just accept that?)

the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide.

”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”

he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”

you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.

”… the woods.”

suguru blinks. a little caught off guard.

his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit. misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”

but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something,” he stifles a chuckle. “it's the woods that you're so curious about?”

you pout. ”… you can see them from here.”

his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”

”they sell their fur,” you state.

(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)

suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”

a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.

”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”

he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”

you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. ”… if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”

”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”

”mhm. you’d be my first target.”

that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you.

a sudden urge overtakes you.

”… i wanna know about something else.”

”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”

”you.”

…

for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”

suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair.

a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”

anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence.

”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.”

he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”

you cock your head. ”being a knight?”

”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)

”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”

he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, an expression reserved for you and you alone. terribly earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”

you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.

”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”

”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice.

(he looks a little enamored.)

”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”

”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”

”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?”

a yawn. ”it would.”

low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”

rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”

an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.

lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly.

”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”

he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his.

— one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles. it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart.

but for once, it works in your favour.

”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”

he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble.

but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.

”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”

he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“

”what are you, stupid?”

”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes, instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”

”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”

you sigh.

”it’s just so suffocating.”

suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something.

moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.

finally, he makes up his mind.

”okay, okay.”

when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”

…

you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.

”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”

he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”

another moment passes.

(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)

a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”

(his ears burn a cherry red.)

”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”

”yep.”

”if anyone asks, you —”

”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”

your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget.

sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour.

and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest.

when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company.

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.

”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”

you tilt your head, feigning confusion. ”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”

the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated.

then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”

suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it.

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete.

when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.

”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.

your protector.

finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth.

he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm.

”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”

his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.

”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”

and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step.

”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”

and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”of course,” he croons. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”

the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — as if wishing to engulf the world. a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.

all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.

only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.

the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.

so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun.

(you wonder if he feels the same.)

”hey, suguru?”

he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.

”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”

he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips.

”obviously.”

…

your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.

”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”

before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical.

gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak. his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. i exist for you, and you alone.”

suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”

and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”

”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”

another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…”

(you do, though.)

suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”

something bitter settles on your tongue.

but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”

a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he chuckles, raspy, amused. ”possessive little thing…”

that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind.

and he always, always kneels.

such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.

”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

”i kinda do.”

a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”

a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”

”don’t be disrespectful.”

”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”

suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes.

”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”

”wha — you pinched me!” you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”

silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.

suguru always kneels.

but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.

sometimes, he feels like your best friend.

careless, careless, careless.

how could he ever be so careless?

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)

the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to.

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue.

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.

suguru is hunting — for you.

and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.

but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —

and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.

when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you.

what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.

suguru.

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

he’s saying your name.

there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat.

(he finally said it.)

you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise.

it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.

”oh, thank the heavens.”

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped.

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.

suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in dashing armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.

so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball.

”i’m sorry.”

and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed.

he looks sad.

with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them.

you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.

but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful —

because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrust a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.

”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”

and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.

suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.

until your voice breaks him out of it.

”it’s not your fault.”

he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

he gulps.

”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”

”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”

(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)

a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”

”it wasn’t your fault.”

…

”your highne —”

”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”

he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”

he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.

”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”

it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.

he places his palm over yours.

a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you.

”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”

you blink. he continues.

”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…”

his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”

silence.

your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”

he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.

”a fox.”

…

”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”

your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.

(well, maybe not quite all.)

”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he stills.

then he’s burning up.

”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.

you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”

suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”

he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.

”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”

he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears.

so he settles for using cheap tricks.

”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”

”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever.

(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”

it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.

he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.

that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished.

before you lies a field of stars.

you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song.

everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.

(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)

the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.

there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil.

you clear your throat to get his attention.

like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale.

you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.

“… okay. you can open them, now.”

he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”

”thank you.”

you raise your head.

suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin.

”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy.

until his smile drops.

”uh, actually — i…”

now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper.

then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”

with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.

it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.

it’s a sketch of a fox.

wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?”

you point to yourself.

suguru only chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.

”like i said; i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”

”i’m gonna frame it.”

…

”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”

”please don't —”

”d’you think a gold frame would fuck up the vibe? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his blatant embarrassment. ”oooh, hang on! father knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”

”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”

a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only. so you hum, albeit a little hesitant.

”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”

he sighs; relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”

”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”

you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall.

finally, everything clicks into place. the air fills with the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, like a loving waltz.

as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue.

”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”

mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”

”uh oh.”

silently, he gives you one of those flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful of bread. he quirks a brow, exhaling amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.

”i retract my earlier statement.”

when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.

”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere.

he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place.

”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

and then he’s smiling.

”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king discards me of that title.”

silence. except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, and he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.

”… suguru.”

he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.

”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”

an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry.

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”

he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.

“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”

before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.

his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is.

but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue, a touch of restraint. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”

”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”

and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”

a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him.

one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.

”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”

(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)

so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.

#geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n #knight!sugu literally means the world to me… this specific version is a lil mischievous <33 and so so protective <333 #most of all he’s very veryyyy wolfy…… this fic is BRIMMING w canine symbolism like i put SO much thought into it 😭😭#knight!sugu is a wolf pretending to be a dog and royalty!reader is a fox forced to behave as a lamb <33 that’s their dynamic!#and yk…. dogs herd sheep…….. sugu guards reader………. (from wolves & foxes…. dramatic irony…….)#but in reality they both feel most at ease when they’re running around in the woods and baring their fangs :33 #i LOVE this reader btw i really hope they come off as endearing despite their brattiness LOL i think they’re soooo cute 🥺🥺#sugu and his brat taming tendencies… his ability to seek out the most guarded people and make them feel safe in his presence…….#he means the galaxy to me. king wherever u may be… i hope u are getting the love u deserve

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

Text

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy.

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work.

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into.

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears.

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere.

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever.

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company.

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone.

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true.

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house.

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight.

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying.

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect.

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue.

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now.

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes.

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is.

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl.

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.”

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time.

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable.

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own.

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little.

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate.

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting.

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still.

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air.

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller.

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.”

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby.

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.”

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.”

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand.

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip.

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years.

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then;

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows.

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze.

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse.

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light.

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else.

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear.

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#u both catch a cold the next day <33 #anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life #shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance #i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3 #hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao #i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child …#what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince….;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈#mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen

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